A Mouth Without a Belly

At what point does the snake gag
mouth-full of self and the shit of it's self?

I would eat the snake, I would stretch
my lips to spliting if
it would fill this hollow-ness.
I would relish in the flesh bulged
over the belt belly of satiation
when "more" becomes "enough".

Right now, snakeless, my crispy edges
curl in, are nibbled
by teeth that have methodically chewed
a peanut butter sandwich
and every platter shuttled
in by Life's liveried waitstaff.

Satisfaction, that elusive harpy
drops mouldy feathers at my feet.
They taste of loathing.
In moments of quiet starvation
I shall nibble my edges.